


Avalanche

by smarshtastic



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, Avalanches, Confessions, Huddling For Warmth, Life-Affirming Sex, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-17 21:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: A rumble startles Jesse out of his paperback. He lifts his head, but the rumble passes. He cranes his neck to look over at Reyes, who appears to still be sleeping soundly. Jesse closes the book and sets it on the table as he stands up, intending to look out the window.An avalanche hits the safehouse.---Jesse is stranded with Commander Reyes waiting for extraction when a storm hits.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! This was written for [McReyes Monthlies](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/391436), inspired by the prompts for January. 
> 
> Special thanks to [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/pseuds/fabrega/works?fandom_id=3406514) for the excellent beta, as always ♥ And a begrudging thanks to [vageege]() for introducing me to a helpful gdoc tool. 
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic), [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) (for now), and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/mcreyes)! Come say hi (or yell at me) ♥

The temperature drops precipitously during the night. Jesse wakes up as the weak, bluish light begins peeking through the windows of the safe house. He tries to roll over but his whole body is stiff. Slowly, painfully, Jesse manages to unfurl his limbs. He realizes that he had been sleeping curled up tight against the cold that seeped into the house overnight. His breath rises in a puff of fog in front of his face when he finally sits up. Jesse scrubs a hand over his face and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes. Outside the window of the tiny room that served as a bedroom, the sky is beginning to lighten, but the landscape remains frozen and blue. A fresh layer of snow blankets the ground around the safe house. The white stretches as far as the eye can see, blending with the cloudy sky on a distant horizon, not another building or person in sight.

It's perfect for a safe house. Isolated, two small rooms, tucked into the side of a mountain - practically a palace when compared to some of the shitholes Jesse's seen. This one even has indoor plumbing (though the pipes are probably frozen at this point). Central heating, however, would've been a nice addition.

Jesse pushes himself to his feet and steps into the front room to look for Reyes. He's awake, standing by the front window and looking out across the snowy landscape that stretches unbroken right to the horizon.

"You get any sleep?" Jesse asks. A breeze whistles through the seam of the front door and cuts right through Jesse's tac gear. He hugs himself tightly, trying to ignore the chill. He thinks vaguely that he'll never get used to how cold some parts of the world can get. He tugs the zipper of his jacket up to his chin.

"Not much," Reyes says. He half turns to look at Jesse. "You?"

"It was a bit colder than I usually like," Jesse says.

"There's another storm blowing in, too," Reyes says. "Communications are down."

Jesse grimaces. They've been in worse situations, definitely, but he was really hoping he'd get back to the base with all his fingers and toes still attached to his body. He wonders how difficult it might be to learn to shoot sans a few fingers.

"Well, guess we're hunkering down for a bit, then," Jesse says. Reyes nods. He moves away from the window.

"We're not exactly equipped for this," Reyes says matter-of-factly. He gestures to the small table, where he's already taken apart their field packs and spread out the contents on the table. "Fortunately, with all that snow, we won't have to worry about staying hydrated."

"I'm not really worried about that," Jesse says. Reyes glances up again. Jesse goes on. "How do you feel about sharing body heat, boss?"

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Reyes says dryly. Jesse tugs his sleeves down over his palms. Even with gloves, his fingers feel like popsicles.

"You run hot - like a furnace. It'd be selfish not to share," Jesse says, half-joking.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Reyes says, his expression unchanging. Not for the first time, Jesse wishes he could read Reyes' mind. Jesse changes the topic abruptly, before he says something he'll regret.

"How long d'you think we have?"

"A day or two, if we're conservative. We don't have a lot," Reyes says. Jesse lets out a breath.

"So, what _did_ we bring?"

"A few meal bars, basic first aid, a few of those old crinkly blankets, and this," Reyes says, holding up a small plastic tube. Jesse squints at it, trying to figure out how the bit of plastic could possibly be useful. "It's a whistle."

"Helpful," Jesse says. Reyes drops the plastic whistle back onto the table.

"I think I was able to get a signal out earlier, but it's hard to say," Reyes says.

"How are we on battery?"

"Alright if we switch them on only periodically."

"We've got two at least - we can rotate."

"Yeah," Reyes says. He sighs. "The best we can do is wait."

Jesse makes a face. He's a patient person, which, for some reason, surprises most of the people who get to know him. He knows how to bide his time. It's one of the skills that makes Jesse an excellent agent. But a situation like this - one in which he has zero control - is not a situation that he likes to put himself in. Being a good agent means having plans B through Z, and then some. A good agent is prepared for any eventuality.

But, sometimes, there are forces which are out of their control. Weather is one of them. They've dealt with it before and they'll deal with it again - that doesn't mean Jesse has to _like_ it.

"Can we at least figure out a way to get some heat going?" Jesse asks, even though he knows it's a useless question. "Since you're not actually a furnace."

"We can try to seal up some cracks in the door," Reyes says. He picks up one of the packets of foil blankets thoughtfully.

"I'll try anything."

Their combined effort isn't a complete failure, but it's close. They end up with bits of foil stuck in the door, flapping every time a fresh gust of wind whips around the safe house. Jesse sighs.

"It's better than nothing."

"It's only temporary," Reyes says, sounding more sure than Jesse feels. Jesse appreciates it, though - Reyes' unfailing cool confidence is always good to hear. It's one of Reyes' best qualities; for as gruff as he might appear to be, he always has reassuring words for his team.

"Too bad we don't have a deck of cards or something," Jesse says. Reyes shakes his head, moving back to the table to neaten the rest of their supplies.

"Oh no, I learned my lesson last time," Reyes says. He stacks the meal bars back into one of their bags.

"You didn't lose _that_ badly," Jesse says, coming to sit at the table. He starts laying out his weapons for a good cleaning - anything to keep his hands busy.

"No, but I saw exactly how much of Shiga's pay you garnished," Reyes says. Jesse grins as Reyes sits down across from him.

"Fred should've known better."

"He should have. But you're not fooling me," Reyes says. Jesse laughs. Reyes even cracks a smile. Jesse pretends that it doesn't make his chest go warm and soft at the sight. Instead, he ducks his head and focuses on taking apart his handgun.

They pass most of the day in relative silence, cleaning their weapons, checking in on the comms periodically, and squinting out the window. It's cold - freezing, really - but Jesse is eventually able to tune it out, more or less. Even though they don't talk much, the silence is never uncomfortable. Jesse has practically spent more time with Reyes than he's spent by himself these days. Running a covert operations organization takes a lot of time and coordination. It's rare that Jesse gets Reyes all to himself, so to speak. Jesse cherishes it. He knows, logically, that their relationship is strictly professional. Reyes doesn't speak of his personal life at all, and Jesse has assumed that means that Reyes has kept it well away from his job.

Anyway, Reyes is a decorated war hero and Jesse is a (mostly) reformed gang rat. There's miles of space between them no matter how closely they work together.

The sky darkens quickly as the clouds close in overhead. It feels like night time even before the night falls. Using one of the small electric lamps that came with the safe house, Jesse and Reyes each eat a protein bar late in the evening.

"We're like sitting ducks," Jesse says through a sticky mouthful of meal replacement. His jaw feels like it's going to come unstuck. The damn things are disgusting, but at least Jesse can almost work up a sweat trying to eat one.

"I don't like it either," Reyes says with a sigh. He crumples the empty meal bar packet in his hand. "But the storm will blow itself out."

"We still have enough charge on the comms, too."

"We'll see if we can get a signal out first thing in the morning," Reyes says.

"I'll take first watch, if you want," Jesse says. Reyes raises his eyebrows. "Maybe the storm will break in the night."

"Alright," Reyes says. He pauses. "Thanks."

"Just part of the job, boss," Jesse says. "We're in this together."

Jesse feels a little silly after he says it, but Reyes nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth even as he moves to the tiny bathroom. It makes Jesse feel just a little less silly.

Jesse moves their gear off the table before he settles in for the night watch. In the smaller room, Reyes lies down on the thin mat on the floor that Jesse slept on the night before, turning on his side so his back is to Jesse. He reaches to turn off one of the electric lamps, plunging the small room into relative darkness. Jesse turns away, making himself as comfortable as he can be at the rickety table.

Outside the safehouse, the wind howls, whistling through the crevices in the walls. Jesse hunches in on himself. Without Reyes as a distraction, the cold suddenly feels much colder again. He glances over at Reyes' unmoving form. Jesse will never not be jealous of Reyes' ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. He's been sleeping better these days himself, at least. Thank god for good therapy and good medicine.

Jesse sinks further down in his seat and pulls a battered paperback out from a side pocket of his tac bag. He never goes anywhere without an honest-to-god book and, so far, nobody's tried to stop him. He rests both elbows on the table, tilting the book to catch the light from the small lamp on the table. The howl of the storm outside fades to almost nothing as Jesse loses himself in the story.

A rumble startles Jesse out of his paperback. He lifts his head, but the rumble passes. He cranes his neck to look over at Reyes, who appears to still be sleeping soundly. Jesse closes the book and sets it on the table as he stands up, intending to look out the window.

An avalanche hits the safehouse.

The force of the impact knocks Jesse off his feet, sending him flying against the window, which shatters under his weight. It's too small for Jesse's body to crash through - the metal frame doesn't give under his weight, driving the breath out of his lungs. A dull roar fills his ears. He hits his head against something and he can't tell which way is up - only that it's _freezing_ and he can't draw a full breath. He can't tell if he's moving or not, his head spinning. Something feels impossibly heavy on his chest.

Jesse loses time. He comes to - was he unconscious? - and blinks hard, finding ice in his eyes. He tries to lift his left arm, but finds it pinned. Using his right, Jesse wipes some ice out of his eyes. It's still mostly dark and the lamps are nowhere to be seen. Jesse can't see much. He can feel wind on his face and, as his eyes adjust to the lack of light, Jesse realizes that one wall of the safe house has completely collapsed, filling the main room with ice.

With a jolt, Jesse realizes that the collapsed wall is where Reyes had been sleeping. He can't see any evidence of Reyes in the ice or rubble.

It takes more effort than Jesse anticipated to free himself from the ice that's pinned him to the remains of the front wall. By the time Jesse manages to dig himself out of the ice, he's breathing hard and sweating under his tac gear. His body aches with cold and uncertain injuries as he drags himself towards the collapsed wall.

"Reyes?" Jesse croaks, his voice barely audible over the sound of the wind. He claws at the rubble, his fingers already going numb even under his gloves. "Boss - can you hear me?"

There's no sound on the other side of the collapsed wall. Is it possible that the avalanche swept Reyes away with the other half of the safe house? Jesse pushes aside that grim thought. He keeps digging through the ice and splintered wood. It's exhausting and every bit of Jesse is screaming out in pain. His tac gear is wet, soaked through, the ice beginning to crystalize against his skin. He's shivering still, but he takes that as a good sign. He's nothing if not stubborn. Jesse keeps digging.

After what feels like an age, the sun begins to rise. The sky lightens but doesn't bring any warmth. Jesse's searching fingers scrape against something solid. He grabs at it and realizes it's the rubber sole of Reyes' boot. Jesse nearly loses it right there. He tugs on the boot as hard as he can manage, scraping ice away with clumsy fingers.

The boot moves under Jesse's hand.

"Reyes?" Jesse asks, his voice weak, exhausted. The boot moves again, and then the leg rises out of the ice along with the rest of Reyes' body. He swipes some ice out of his face with a stiff hand. In the early morning sunlight, his face looks grey. But he's alive.

Jesse helps dig Reyes the rest of the way out. Somehow, with their combined efforts, they manage to get Reyes out from the crumbled remains of the small room and into the icy main room. Impossibly, Jesse realizes that the bathroom is more or less intact; the door hangs on one hinge, but there's almost no ice inside. Jesse shoves the door open with his shoulder and lets Reyes in first, then collapses on the cold linoleum next to him, breathing hard.

"Well," Reyes says hoarsely. "This is a setback."

"Are you okay?" Jesse asks. He's shivering harder now - it's hard to say if the pain radiating through his body is from broken bones or frostbite. He manages to get the door mostly closed behind him. It keeps the wind out, more or less, but it doesn't make the tiny bathroom feel much warmer.

"Been better," Reyes says. He shifts, drawing himself up to a better seated position, his back against the toilet. "You?"

"Been better," Jesse echoes.

"Supplies?"

"Didn't look. More worried about you," Jesse says. Reyes doesn't say anything for a moment. Jesse tries to straighten out his limbs, but it hurts too much. He hunches in on himself.

"Going to need you to look, Jesse," Reyes says. At his name, Jesse turns his head to look at Reyes again, but Reyes' eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls slowly. "Comm, food - anything."

"Can you give me a second?" Jesse asks. Reyes opens his eyes.

"Catch your breath," Reyes says. "But we can't stay here."

"Dunno, boss, I thought we were getting cozy," Jesse says, though he allows his body to relax, just for a moment. His chest feels tight - broken ribs? - but he's not ready to give up yet.

"That's certainly a word for it."

Neither of them laugh. After a moment, Jesse asks, "Are you hurt?"

"I feel like the side of a mountain fell on me."

"Funny you should say that."

Another pause.

"McCree, I need you to check for supplies. The comm, at least," Reyes says. Jesse takes a deep breath then hauls himself back up.

"On it."

Jesse drags himself back out of the bathroom. The wind hits him in the face again. Gritting his teeth against it, Jesse makes his way to where their tac bags should be. Instead, he finds a pile of icy snow. He scrapes at it but finds nothing under the surface. Jesse sits back on his heels, trying to get his too-cold brain to think. Finally, he turns towards the remains of the front door and window - where he was tossed when the avalanche first hit - and combs through the ice there. By some miracle, he finds the strap of a bag and hauls it out. The comms are in there, the first aid, but just one of the meal bars. Jesse bites back a laugh.

"Got it," Jesse says. "Reyes, I got it."

"Bring it here. Come on," Reyes replies, his voice coming out thin. Jesse scrambles back over to the bathroom, his legs and arms clumsy on the slippery surfaces, but he manages to get himself back into the tiny room and closes the door behind him, shutting the worst of the wind out. Reyes reaches out a hand. "Give it here."

"It's not everything - I don't know where the other bag is," Jesse says as Reyes takes it.

"Better than nothing," Reyes says. He fishes around in the bag and pulls out the first aid kit. There's one heavy-duty biotic pack. "Come here."

"What?"

"Do you want to freeze?"

Reyes cracks open the biotic pack and the warm, golden glow fills the tiny bathroom. Reyes looks at Jesse expectantly. Jesse scoots closer and then is surprised when Reyes drags him in the rest of the way, pulling Jesse close to his side. Even more surprising than the tingling relief of the biotic pack is how warm Reyes is up close. Jesse huddles into his side.

"How are you so warm?" Jesse asks. He barely resists turning his face into Reyes' neck. Instead, he settles for leaning his head against his shoulder. Reyes' arm wraps around Jesse, holding him to his side. It would be strangely intimate if Jesse wasn't actually freezing. Reyes moves the biotic pack into his lap, closer to their chests.

"The soldier enhancement program shit is good for something," Reyes says. "I run hot when I'm healing."

"But only _now_ you share."

"I'm not your personal heater, McCree."

"You kinda are right now."

Reyes makes a small sound that might be a snort. "Enjoy it while it lasts, then."

Jesse goes quiet. Strangely enough, he does enjoy it - the closeness. If he's going to freeze to death here, at least he gets to do so in Gabriel Reyes' arms.

Just the thought, as dramatic as it is, makes Jesse laugh to himself. Can't manage to shake a crush even in the face of certain, icy death.

"What was that?" Reyes asks. Jesse shakes his head without looking up at his commander. He can feel his chest rise and fall under his cheek.

"Nothing. Should we check the comms? The wind's dying down."

"Give me a few more minutes," Reyes says.

"Yeah?"

"SEP crap again. Just need to recharge, then we can get out of here," Reyes says. He does sound stronger, somehow.

"What, are we going to hike down the mountain or something?"

"That's the idea, yeah."

Jesse blinks. He turns his head to look up at Reyes. "That's crazy."

"It might be the only option we have."

"Reyes," Jesse starts to say, then stops. He shakes his head. "There's no way that's going to work."

"Safe house's wiped out," Reyes says. "Which means the extraction point is probably wiped too. We need to get somewhere clear, somewhere with signal, somewhere they can get us out safely. Once I've got a little more juice under my belt, we can move. I'll get us out of here."

Jesse goes quiet. Reyes shifts slightly, which has the effect of drawing Jesse in even closer. Jesse rests his head back on Reyes' shoulder. It's not the worst plan that they've ever had. More importantly, though, Jesse trusts Reyes to have his back.

Jesse lets himself relax against Reyes, his eyes on the biotic pack in their laps. He doesn't sleep, even though he almost certainly could. His eyes feel heavy. He's exhausted, but he can't rest yet. They have work to do. Eventually, the light of the biotic pack fades. Reyes shifts, bringing Jesse back to present.

"Comm?" Reyes asks, pushing the empty biotic pack off his lap. Jesse leans forward for the tac bag, wincing as he does so; he's definitely got some broken ribs, and the shared biotic pack wasn't nearly enough to knit everything back together. Reyes, on the other hand, looks almost back to normal. Jesse hands the comm over.

"Where can I get some of that SEP crap?" Jesse asks, settling back, pressing one hand against his ribs.

"More trouble than it's worth," Reyes says. "Trust me."

"Right now, I'd be willing to put up with a little trouble."

Reyes glances at him sideways, the comm in his hands. "How bad is it?"

"It's not bad."

"McCree," Reyes says, tone stern.

"It's just a few ribs, boss," Jesse says, trying to keep his tone light. "You'll get us out of here and Angie'll give me a stern talkin' to and everything will be okay."

Reyes doesn't say anything, but his mouth forms a hard line as he fiddles with the comm. The display flashes half battery - that's better than either of them expected. The reception is still patchy at best. Reyes sends out the emergency signal.

"We have to get moving," Reyes says. "While the sun is still out."

Jesse grimaces, steeling himself for what's to come. "Alright. Lead the way."

Reyes pushes himself up and Jesse immediately misses his warmth. He looks up at Reyes, who seems steadier on his feet than Jesse expected. In fact, nearly all the color has returned to Reyes' face. Jesse thinks there might be something to that SEP crap, for as much trouble as Reyes says there is.

"This was all you could find?" Reyes asks, hauling up the tac bag. Jesse nods, still sitting on the floor.

"If you feel like digging through ice, be my guest. There's one meal bar in there, and your whistle."

Reyes turns back to look at Jesse to say something, but is somewhat surprised to find him still on the floor. A crease appears between his brows.

"Need a hand?"

"Just need a boost," Jesse admits. "Then we can get going."

"Thought you said just ribs," Reyes says, offering a hand. Jesse takes it and hauls himself up, trying to hide a wince. In the tiny space of the bathroom, Jesse can almost feel the heat coming off Reyes again. He is sorely tempted to tuck himself back into Reyes' side, but he resists the urge. He wraps his arms around his chest.

"Probably," Jesse says. When Reyes gives him a look, Jesse adds, "I can't say for sure, boss. I'm half-numb. The biotics helped. I just want off this damn mountain."

"We'll take it slow, then."

"Fast would be okay too," Jesse says.

"I don't want to have to drag your body off this mountain," Reyes says, his voice going harder. Jesse meets his eyes and sobers up.

"Alright, so let's get moving."

Reyes holds out the meal bar. "Eat up, then. You'll need your strength."

Jesse raises his eyebrows. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"I know how much you eat on a normal day. And after all that super soldier healing you've gotta be hungry," Jesse says. Reyes purses his lips. "So, split it? In the interest of both of us getting down. Plus, one less thing to carry."

Wordlessly and without further protest, Reyes splits the bar in half. He gives Jesse the slightly larger half even though Jesse gives him a look. Jesse chokes his half down in three big bites and almost immediately regrets it. It sits heavy in his stomach, which threatens to cramp in protest. Reyes tucks the empty wrapper into a pocket. He starts to move out of the bathroom then pauses. He grabs the plastic whistle out of the tac bag and hands it to Jesse.

"You hold on to that," Reyes says. "It's obviously important."

Jesse puts it to his lips and blows. A shrill sound bounces off the walls of the bathroom, making them both wince. Jesse hastily tucks it into his pocket.

"Well, it works."

"Come on."

Reyes moves ahead of Jesse, scrambling out of the remains of the safehouse with some difficulty. Jesse follows close behind, though he struggles more than Reyes. His fingers can't get a good grip on the remains of the doorframe, but Reyes reaches down and helps haul him to the icy surface. Behind them, the remains of the safehouse poke out of the snow. They were lucky. Reyes shares a knowing look with Jesse.

"You got any idea where we're going, boss?" Jesse asks. His limbs are stiff and ache with each step. Outside, the wind is still blowing, but not nearly as strongly as it had been the night before. Still, it cuts through Jesse's tac gear even as he hunches against it. His boots slip and slide on the ice but Jesse stubbornly somehow manages to stay upright, even though everything inside pulls horribly.

"Down," Reyes says, gesturing vaguely down the mountain.

"Great plan."

Reyes glances over his shoulder. "I'll keep pinging the comm. Just stay close."

"Roger that."

Jesse focuses on putting one foot in front of the other. He keeps his eyes on Reyes' back. Jesse has to keep up, he _needs_ to. A not-insignificant part of him doesn't want to let Reyes down. So he keeps trudging along. He watches Reyes' shoulders, strong and upright even though he must be feeling the pain too. Or, maybe he's not, Jesse reflects - Reyes went from deathly grey to practically rosy in almost no time at all.

They walk and walk. The mountain seems to go on forever. The sun edges toward the horizon. Jesse can feel the temperature dropping again. Fortunately, the wind seems to have died down. Jesse barely registers it - his mind has more or less gone blank. All of his energy is focused on moving forward. Neither he nor Reyes has spoken much at all. Reyes checks in with the comm regularly, but they've yet to receive any response.

At some point, Jesse slips and goes down. He struggles to get up, but it doesn't quite seem worth the effort. He tells himself he'll just give himself a moment to rest, to catch his breath, to close his eyes. Just a moment.

A rough hand hauls Jesse up by the tac vest. Jesse tries to wriggle free, but when he opens his eyes he finds Reyes holding onto him. One of his hands is pressed against the small of Jesse's back, the other still fisted in the front of his vest.

"Hey," Reyes says urgently. He shakes Jesse, just a little bit. "You with me?"

"Sorry, boss," Jesse says. He tries to back up, but finds Reyes' hand still pressing against his back. He thinks, deliriously, how much he'd like to collapse against Reyes' chest and stay there forever.

"We've still got a ways to go."

"Yeah. I'm with you."

"Real convincing, McCree," Reyes says. He shifts his grip and then gets an arm under Jesse, holding him up. Jesse has an inch on Reyes, but Reyes has the strength advantage. Jesse leans into him.

"I was just hoping you'd finally carry me," Jesse mumbles. Reyes snorts.

"You're lucky we're going down hill," Reyes says.

"You could roll me."

"Don't tempt me."

They move much slower now, with Reyes supporting a fair amount of Jesse's weight. Jesse does his best to keep moving. He's a stubborn motherfucker and he's not going to let a little bit of cold take him down, god damn it. He draws himself up straighter, a renewed sense of purpose. But he doesn't pull away from Reyes' arms. He tells himself that it's because the proximity keeps him just slightly warmer. It's only a partial truth.

The sun sinks closer to the horizon and the temperature begins to fall again. Jesse feels Reyes slip on the ice. Instinctively, Jesse grabs him, keeps Reyes from going down and taking him down with him.

"Hey - easy. Careful," Jesse says.

"Sorry," Reyes mumbles. He straightens, not without help from Jesse. They've been trudging through snow for hours, they haven't eaten since the meal bars, and they don't have the right gear to keep them warm. There's no turning back now, but going forward is feeling less and less doable.

"Don't apologize to me," Jesse says. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Let's just -" Reyes stops. Jesse doesn't look at his face, but he can hear something in the tone of his voice that doesn't sound quite right. "Let's catch our breath for a moment."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Jesse says. Reyes nods but doesn't say anything. After a moment, Jesse realizes he still has his arm wrapped around Reyes' waist. He should pull away, or at least move his arm, but when Jesse shifts as if to put space between them, Reyes leans into his arm. The cold air that shoots between them gives Jesse additional pause. So he steps in closer. They stand like that, almost hugging, for several quiet minutes.

"Anything on the comm?" Jesse asks finally, breaking the silence. Reyes fumbles for the comm in his pocket. It lets in air between them again, so Jesse steps in front of Reyes, pressing in as close as he can without actually pressing the length of his body against Reyes' own. Reyes' hands are clumsy as he flicks the comm back on. It takes longer than it should for the screen to light up - it flashes a low battery warning. But, somehow, there's one, tiny bar of signal in the upper corner.

Reyes looks up quickly, his head nearly connecting with Jesse's nose. He meets Jesse's eyes and Jesse is struck by how _tired_ he looks - more than the usual wrung out, overworked look he has when he's been catching up on reports. His eyes are sunken in and rimmed in dark circles. His face almost looks thinner, even, and the greyish color is returning to his skin. Jesse suddenly, despite his own exhaustion, feels a ridiculous wave of something like protectiveness. When Reyes looks at him, Jesse can almost believe Reyes senses it too - a mutual trust.

"Quick," Jesse says, pushing the feeling aside for later examination. "Before we lose it."

Reyes nods. He tries the voice transmitter but only gets a high-pitched, whining static. Reyes turns it off abruptly and reverts to the old fashioned text message. Jesse watches Reyes tap out the emergency message and holds his breath as Reyes sends the message away. The wheel spins on the screen. After what feels like far too long, the message reads as sent. Reyes sags a little.

"We should keep moving," Reyes says.

"You up for it?"

"Are you?"

"We don't really have a choice."

"No, we don't."

Leaning on each other, Jesse and Reyes resume their shuffle down the mountain. It's hard to say who's supporting who more at this point. The sun is starting to set. The snow turns pink and orange, almost glowing in the waning light. It would be pretty if it wasn't so fucking cold.

"We should…" Jesse starts to say, then trails off. He wets his chapped and bleeding lips with the tip of his tongue. "Check the comm?"

"Alright."

They come to a stumbling halt. Jesse leans into Reyes' shoulder and Reyes leans back, the equal force on either side really the only thing actually holding them up. Reyes fishes the comm out again but no matter how many times he tries to turn it back on, the screen stays stubbornly dark.

"Dead," Reyes says. He looks up at Jesse's face without moving his head. Jesse holds his gaze.

"We have the other one," Jesse says. "It should still have charge."

"Yeah," Reyes says. He lets the dead comm drop in the snow. Something about the gesture feels strangely final. A lump forms in Jesse's throat.

"You wanna rest for a few?"

"Yeah," Reyes says. He leans into Jesse a little bit more. He's heavy, and under normal circumstances Jesse would've been able to handle it no problem, but now the extra weight throws him off balance. Jesse grabs at Reyes, trying to keep them upright, to no avail. Tangled together, they fall into the snow.

At this point, though, Jesse's too exhausted to care. He does his best to pull Reyes in close, to share what little body heat they have. It feels like Reyes is shivering. Jesse wraps an arm around him.

"You okay, boss?" Jesse asks. Reyes grunts.

"Give me your comm," he says. His voice comes out rough, gravelly. Jesse keeps an arm around Reyes while he digs through his pockets for his comm. His fingers finally close around it and he passes it to Reyes, who fumbles with it a little before he manages to get it on. There's that same sliver of a signal showing in the upper corner of the screen. Slowly, laboriously, Reyes types out the emergency message and hits send. The message fails to send. Reyes hits send again, then again.

Eventually, the message reads as sent. Reyes leaves the comm on and drops it into his lap before he lets his head sink down against Jesse's shoulder. Jesse leans his head against Reyes' and lets his eyes slide closed.

"Just a little rest. Just for a moment," Jesse says. He knows, even as he says it, that they're probably not going to be able to get back up on their own. He's sure Reyes knows it too.

"Jesse?" Reyes says after a stretch of silence. Jesse blinks but doesn't lift his head.

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here," Reyes says.

"There's no one else I'd rather be stranded with," Jesse says honestly. Reyes snorts. Jesse can feel his breath against the bit of exposed skin on his neck. "No, really. Imagine being stuck with Edwards."

Reyes snorts again.

"The extraction team will get us out of here," Reyes says. Jesse nods, his cheek still resting against the top of Reyes' head.

"Yeah," Jesse says. He feels Reyes exhale, the weight of his body leaning more heavily into Jesse's.

Jesse doesn't know how long they stay like that. The sun sets and the landscape turns a purplish blue color before the light fades completely. Jesse can feel Reyes' chest rise and fall against his own - it's the thing he focuses on. He could almost enjoy the closeness, the vulnerability that they're sharing with each other. Reyes' breath is steady, reassuring. It almost puts Jesse in a meditative state, blocking out the exhaustion and pain and hunger and numbness.

A pinging noise brings Jesse out of his reverie.

"What was that?" Jesse asks. He's surprised by the way his words come out slightly slurred. Jesse feels Reyes shift.

"The comm," Reyes says. With difficulty, Jesse looks down at the comm in Reyes' clenched hand. "They're coming."

"Tell them to bring hot chocolate," Jesse says. Reyes lets out a short, hoarse laugh. Jesse smiles faintly. "You okay still, boss?"

"Looking forward to that hot chocolate," Reyes says. "You?"

"Same," Jesse says. They fall quiet again and Jesse returns his focus to Reyes' breathing. He lets himself imagine falling asleep to the regular sound, in a bed, somewhere soft and warm.

Maybe he does fall asleep. He certainly feels sluggish when the sound of a shuttle overhead suddenly cuts through the air. The comm blares to life.

"Can't land," a familiar voice says, distorted by static. "The ice is still unstable. We'll haul you up."

"Hurry up," Reyes says, strength coming into his voice again. He moves, almost as if to get up, but stops. Jesse feels his hand flexing against his ribcage.

Jesse tilts his head back with effort. His neck is stiff, sore. He squints into the night sky but is blinded by the lights of the shuttle overhead. Soon, so soon, there will be warm blankets and dry clothes and, if not a cup of hot chocolate, at least a very stiff drink.

The shuttle lowers the rope. Reyes is the one who reaches out for it, grabbing the end even as it swings in the breeze generated by the shuttle. He clips the reinforced carabiner to his tac belt.

"C'mere," Reyes says to Jesse, as if Jesse wasn't already clinging to him. He shifts, getting his arms wrapped around Jesse. They're face to face. They're so close that Jesse could count Reyes eyelashes. He can see the individual ice crystals clinging to his facial hair. Reyes' fingers grip the back of Jesse's tac jacket tightly. "Hold on."

Jesse nods, his own mostly numb fingers tightening in Reyes' tac gear. Reyes signals to the shuttle and the rope jerks sharply once before they're hoisted into the air. Weightless. Saved.

The wind feels cruel as Jesse and Reyes leave the icy mountain behind. The door of the shuttle is thrown open, ready to receive them. Jesse meets Reyes' eye again, opening his mouth to say something. Reyes looks at him, almost expectantly, when Jesse's grip slips. He falls just as the rope brings Reyes over the lip of the shuttle. Jesse doesn't yell.


	2. Chapter 2

McCree's surprised expression as he falls back down to the snowy earth stays with Gabe. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees McCree's wide eyes, his reaching hand, his slightly open mouth rounded in a soundless "Oh" as he falls. Gabe had been too slow to react and grab McCree before he fell. Then he was being hauled over the lip of the shuttle and McCree was left behind.

"Wait -" Gabe rasps as the shuttle door closed behind him. Someone is unhooking the line from his tac belt while someone else hauls him away from the door. An Overwatch medic that Gabe doesn't recognize shushes him as he wraps Gabe in one of the high-tech warming blankets. It's too warm and Gabe struggles to get it off him.

"Commander -" the medic starts to say, chidingly. Gabe throws the blanket off his shoulders.

" _Wait_ ," Gabe says, louder this time. The medic pauses, holding the blanket with both hands. "Where's McCree?"

When nobody answers him, Gabe pushes himself to his feet. It's an enormous effort, his whole body crying out in pain. His limbs are beginning to tingle with painful pinpricks as the warmth of the shuttle seeps into his skin.

"Turn around," Gabe barks. His voice is still hoarse, but his tone is unmistakable. " _Turn around_."

"Sir, we have orders -"

"There were two of us down there," Gabe says. He can feel the shuttle's engine rev under his feet. There's an irritating, rapid beeping coming from somewhere behind him. Gabe braces himself, forcing himself to stay upright even as the shuttle picks up speed.

"We have to get you to medical, sir," the medic says.

"There were _two_ of us," Gabe says. "Turn back now."

"We'll send another shuttle," someone else says.

"We have orders," another agent says.

Gabe swings towards the cockpit - does he have to do _everything_ himself - but the medic catches his arm, his grip surprisingly strong. Gabe wobbles on the spot.

"Sir, they'll send another shuttle," the medic says. He looks Gabe in the eye, clearly uncomfortable at disobeying a commanding officer, but also not willing to back down. "We need to get you warmed up."

"We _need_ to go back for McCree," Gabe snaps. The medic gives him a little pleading look.

"They will, I'm sure they will. But we need to get your vitals stabilized," the medic says. Gabe realizes that the rapid beeping is actually coming from a monitor that the medic had managed to get attached to his neck. He spots the monitor on the wall projecting his vitals. Gabe grits his teeth. He sits down heavily in a nearby jumpseat.

"Get me a comm," Gabe says. The medic drapes the heated blanket over Gabe's lap before he moves away to get the comm. Gabe clenches his hand in the crinkly material and squeezes his eyes shut. McCree's face floats in his mind's eye. Gabe watches him fall again, arm outstretched. He hears his own heart rate jump on the monitors.

"Sir?"

Gabe peels his eyes open again. The medic is standing there with a comm in hand. Gabe snatches it away from him and tries dialing his team. His fingers fumble with the comm, feeling too thick and clumsy. His hand shakes. Finally, he manages to hit the right combination of buttons to dial out.

"Valdez."

Gabe swallows down a relieved noise.

"Valdez, I need you to send another team," Gabe says. "We lost McCree on the extraction."

"Coordinates?" she asks. Gabe is always grateful for her ability to unquestioningly follow orders.

"I'll have this team send them your way," Gabe says, giving the medic a look and gesturing stiffly. The medic blinks before he seems to understand. He scampers up to the cockpit. "And Stef? Hurry."

"Roger that."

The line goes dead and Gabe lets his hand fall into his lap. He's still shaking in spite of the blanket draped across his lap. He looks up as the medic comes back to fuss over him.

"Did the coordinates go out?"

"Yes sir."

"I want regular status updates," Gabe says. The medic tries to pry the comm out of his hands, but Gabe doesn't let go.

"We'll let you know as soon as we know anything further," the medic says.

"That's not what I said."

"Sir -" the medic starts to say but then he catches Gabe's expression. The medic purses his lips and nods stiffly. "Yes sir. I'll make sure of it."

Gabe nods and lets his head fall back against the seat, giving the medic room to work. The beeping of the monitor is still frantic but Gabe tunes it out. He keeps seeing McCree's face falling away from him.

It's simply bad luck that the storm hit when it did, and worse luck that the avalanche chose their shitty little safehouse to demolish. The job always has risks. He knows that, and McCree knows that, maybe better than anyone. Still, Gabe can't help but feel responsible for this sequence of events. Gabe is, at the very minimum, responsible for McCree's safety. Gabe let himself run down too close to empty to be effective in a survival situation. It clouded his judgment. He should have known better.

He should've secured the line to McCree's tac gear instead of his own. He thought he could hold him.

Gabe tries to shut out the guilty thoughts. He's prone to taking on an unnecessary amount of responsibility for things outside of his control - his therapist likes to remind him of this often. Gabe instead tries to focus on the things they did right. McCree is always good in an emergency; level-headed, quick on his feet. He did what he needed to do to get them out of there, in spite of whatever injuries he was hiding under his gear. McCree doesn't have the advantage of the SEP crap, either, so his perseverance was admirable. He dug Gabe out of the ice and retrieved what little supplies had survived the avalanche. He kept moving forward, even when he was struggling to stay warm. It's because of McCree that they made it out of the safehouse at all. Gabe will put him in for a commendation once all is said and done.

Gabe feels the shuttle bank hard and then the nose tips down, making a hasty and inelegant landing. He winces as the shuttle touches down with a sharp bump.

"Status?" Gabe asks, pushing himself up out of his seat before the pilot even cuts the engine.

"They're en route, sir," the medic says. He quickly puts himself in Gabe's path. Gabe narrows his eyes. "We have to get you to medical."

"I want a direct line to that shuttle," Gabe says even as the medic herds him out of the shuttle bay. Gabe stumbles over his own feet, still clumsy and stiff with cold.

"Yes sir. We'll make arrangements."

"And I want to know when they land here."

"Yes sir."

"McCree needs first priority treatment, too," Gabe goes on. "Whatever he needs - he gets it first."

"We'll do what we can, sir."

Gabe stops mid-step and turns to face the medic, his expression serious. "That's an order."

The medic nods emphatically, assuring Gabe that he'll pass along the message. Gabe doesn't quite believe him. He realizes he still has the comm in his hand. He types out a message to Valdez, knowing that Stef won't keep anything from him. Gabe hits send and then lets the medic lead him to medical without further protest.

Gabe allows himself to be shuffled into a stark white room where the nurses help him out of his damp tac gear. He's shivering again and the beginning of a migraine is starting to take root right behind his eyes. Gabe squeezes his eyes shut, letting the medics work.

McCree falls away from him again, disappearing into white.

Eventually, Gabe finds himself in bed, in dry scrubs, with thick socks on his feet. A healing biotic beam is focused on his chest. There's an IV in his arm feeding him a steady flow of warmed fluids and nutrients. Gabe can feel the trickle of heat spread through his body, his hungry cells snapping up the nutrients. It eases the migraine, just a little. Gabe opens his eyes and looks down at the comm still in his hand. No word from Valdez. Gabe reaches over and jams the call button until a nurse appears.

"Commander? Is everything alright?" the nurse asks. Gabe doesn't recognize him.

"I need a status update on the other rescue," Gabe says. The nurse looks at him blankly.

"Other rescue?"

Gabe feels his chest clench up in a way that he knows is unrelated to the biotics working their magic.

"They were supposed to be going back out after Agent McCree," Gabe grinds out. The nurse gives him a little nod.

"I don't know anything about that, sir," the nurse says carefully.

"Then get me someone who does."

Gabe watches the nurse scamper away. He'll apologize later, once this whole debacle is over, but he's not exactly feeling charitable at the moment. Every moment that McCree is left out there scrapes away his chances of survival.

How is Gabe supposed to live with himself if McCree doesn't make it?

He's lost people before. Other soldiers, during the Crisis, and agents in Blackwatch. He's lost family, friends. Gabe is no stranger to loss. It shouldn't be any different this time around, except it _is_ and Gabe is unwilling to put his finger on exactly why.

Gabe sends another message to Valdez and finds that his hands are shaking. He drops the comm to the bed at his side and leans his head back against the soft pillows, watching the biotic beam move slowly back and forth over his chest. He can feel the bones knitting back together, the ache numbed by whatever else the medics slipped into his IV. It's probably the only reason he isn't more panicked. Smart, Gabe has to give the doctors that.

The comm pings at his side and Gabe's heart leaps through his chest. The monitors beep urgently but Gabe takes a couple of deep breaths, forcing himself to relax. He picks up the comm.

> **We got him**.

Gabe lets his breath out with a little wheeze. It's not quite total relief - Gabe expects he won't be totally reassured until he sees McCree for himself. He checks the time on the comm, even though he has no idea how much time has passed between his rescue and now.

All he can do is wait.

Hours go by. Gabe wishes he could get up to pace. He's sent Valdez several messages asking for information, but hasn't gotten much more than a confirmation that McCree is alive.

A new nurse comes in to turn off the biotic beam and switch out his IV. Gabe holds still as the nurse rechecks his vitals.

"Is there any word on Agent McCree?" Gabe asks. The nurse glances up at him.

"Agent McCree? I think he's still in surgery."

Gabe's heart drops. He swallows around the lump in his throat, unable to find the words to ask another question. The nurse retucks the blankets around Gabe and leaves him, dimming the lights as he goes.

Gabe's mind races. He had his own broken bones from the impact of the avalanche - it's more than likely McCree had his share too. Then he fell from the shuttle. Plus, McCree doesn't have the benefit of SEP serum running through his veins; even as depleted as Gabe has been, the serum kept all his parts knitted together until he got to medical. McCree was exposed to the elements longer.

The possibilities are endless. The only bit of hope Gabe clings to is that McCree is alive. He wouldn't be in surgery if he wasn't. It's cold comfort, though. Gabe resists the urge to get out of his bed. He sends another message to Valdez.

More hours pass. Exhaustion gets the better of Gabe, and he finally succumbs to it. He dreams of McCree tucked into his side, his body heavy and solid against him. Gabe wraps his arms around McCree and holds him close, relishing it, and then they're both lifted up into the air. Gabe feels his stomach twist at the sensation of weightlessness. He looks at McCree, who meets his eye and smiles, full of hope and... something else. Gabe opens his mouth to ask a question and then McCree is falling again, slipping through Gabe's fingers and disappearing into a blanket of white. Gabe feels the air leave his own lungs as McCree hits the ground.

Gabe wakes, gasping and groggy, disoriented. The comm isn't in his hand anymore. He casts around for it until he finds it perched on the side table. Gabe reaches for it. His body aches in protest, but it's more of a soreness from disuse rather than injury. The time on the comm suggests that Gabe's been asleep for several hours. There aren't any more messages from Valdez. He jams the nurse call button until someone appears.

"Good afternoon, Commander," an unfamiliar nurse says. She comes around the side of the bed to gently but firmly move Gabe's hand away from the call button before she checks his vitals. "How are you feeling?"

"I want a status update on Agent McCree," Gabe says. The nurse glances up at his face.

"I'll ask the doctor to come by," the nurse says. "I'm not at liberty to discuss another patient's status."

"I'm his commander," Gabe says. The nurse pats his hand almost condescendingly. Gabe resists the urge to be impressed by her cheek.

"I'll have the doctor come talk to you, sir. Would you like anything to eat in the meantime?"

Gabe begrudgingly agrees to food, but not before insisting on speaking with the doctor immediately. The nurse promises to send the doctor as soon as she's available. With another gentle pat, the nurse disappears.

The food comes before the doctor does. At first, Gabe thinks to wait to eat until he sees the doctor, but his rumbling stomach has other ideas. Gabe forced himself to eat slowly, even though his depleted body says otherwise. Even shitty hospital food tastes gourmet in his state.

Gabe is scraping the bottom of his bowl of lentil soup when the doctor finally comes in.

"Commander Reyes, how are you feeling?" the doctor asks. Gabe doesn't recognize her - it strikes him how much larger Overwatch's network has grown in recent years.

"Fine. What's Agent McCree's status?"

"He's stabilized. Resting," the doctor says, tapping through Gabe's chart on her tablet. Gabe exhales, some the tension evaporating from his body. McCree is alive.

"Good - that's good," Gabe says. He rubs a hand over his face. "Can I go see him?"

"Maybe when he wakes up," the doctor says. She looks over the edge of the tablet at Gabe, studying him with sharp eyes. The tension begins to solidify in his chest again.

"When will that be?" Gabe asks.

"I'm not sure at the moment," the doctor says. Gabe swallows as the knot climbs up his throat.

"I'd like to see him now," Gabe says, putting some of his commanding sternness into his voice.

"Commander, I'll be frank with you - Agent McCree is in bad shape. We removed the areas which succumbed to frostbite, but his condition is still tenuous," the doctor says. Her words sound far away. Gabe's head swims.

"Frostbite?" he asks.

"His left arm," the doctor confirms.

"Oh."

The doctor is speaking again but Gabe is barely listening. The guilt rushes back all at once, the feeling of responsibility making a fist around Gabe's windpipe and squeezing.

He dropped him and McCree lost his arm. McCree, his best agent.

"I need to see him," Gabe says, already trying to get out of bed. The doctor moves to block his path.

"He's not awake right now."

"I want to be there when he does wake up," Gabe says.

"I don't think -"

"He needs to hear it from me," Gabe says, his voice going rough. "I need to be the one to tell him."

The doctor's expression softens. "That's not necessary, sir. My team and I will walk him through it."

"You don't understand," Gabe says. "I _need_ to be the one to tell him."

The doctor looks at him for a long time, her expression inscrutable. She glances down at the tablet in her hands again, flicks through a few screens and then lets her breath out in a sigh.

"I'll see what I can do, Commander," she says. "But he may not be awake for some time."

"That's fine. I can wait."

Gabe isn't nearly as patient as he leads others to believe. He has spent too much of his life waiting for other people to get their shit together, waiting for answers that never come. The longer he's been with Blackwatch, the more liable Gabe is to take matters into his own hands. He can get away with it, in a lot of cases. It feels so damn good to be able to be in control of his own destiny, Gabe wonders why he didn't start doing it sooner.

Every time a nurse comes to check on him, Gabe asks for McCree's status. He gets so annoying after just a few hours that they eventually send him preemptive updates. He figures out where McCree's room is and asks to be taken there. After the third refusal, Gabe levers himself out of his hospital bed and starts walking on surprisingly shaky legs. The nurses intercept him, chide him, but Gabe doesn't give in to their worried words.

So, finally, Gabe ends up in a chair at McCree's bedside.

McCree looks worse than Gabe expected. There's spots of healing ice burn on his cheeks and forehead; the tip of his nose is still blackened with frostbite. His face looks sunken in, worn. His left arm ends abruptly above the elbow, the sleeve of his hospital gown pinned up out of the way so the nurses can change the dressings regularly.

Gabe wallows in his guilt, having a hard time looking away from McCree's amputated arm. McCree seems to be resting comfortably, at least, his IV providing a steady drip of painkillers. He doesn't seem to acknowledge Gabe's presence at all, which Gabe almost prefers. He wouldn't be surprised if McCree put the blame on him - Gabe expects it. Why shouldn't McCree blame him? Gabe was the one who got him into this mess, Gabe was the one who was supposed to get him out of it, Gabe was the one who dropped him at the last moment.

Even through the guilt, though, Gabe is surprised by how strong of a reaction he's having to McCree's survival. He's had agents injured in the field before, he's _lost_ agents before, and yet Gabe has never reacted so strongly to any of those incidents in the past. There's something about this happening to _McCree_ of all people that hits home for Gabe in a completely different way.

He'll survive - the doctor assures Gabe that McCree will do better than survive, even, but Gabe looks at McCree's newly missing arm and he has to wonder.

McCree's alive, Gabe reminds himself. That's what matters.

On the morning of the third day after McCree's rescue, McCree begins to stir. Gabe has hardly left his side since he figured out where they were keeping him. The doctor tried to object - but when she admitted that Gabe was no longer subject to her care, he ensconced himself in the uncomfortable seat at McCree's side and hadn't moved since.

Gabe sits up straight as McCree's eyes move behind his closed lids, practically holding his breath as McCree rolls his head from side to side. When McCree finally opens his eyes, Gabe has to suppress a gasp. McCree's eyes focus on Gabe, a little faraway and glassy, and then a smile spreads over his face.

"Hey boss," McCree says, his voice hoarse. Before Gabe knows what he's doing, he ducks forward and presses his mouth to McCree's in a desperate, aching kiss.

McCree makes a surprised noise but doesn't pull away. Gabe's brain finally catches up with his body and he sits back down in his seat abruptly, surprised at himself. He can't quite explain where that urge came from, but he doesn't regret it, either. He looks at McCree, almost anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction. McCree is looking up at him with a wondering look. His right hand comes up to touch his lip and then his head turns, eyes falling on the remaining stump of his left arm. Gabe swallows thickly.

"They did what they could," Gabe says with difficulty, half-glad for the distraction. He clears his throat and tries again. "I'm sorry we didn't get to you sooner."

McCree tears his gaze away from his arm and refocuses on Gabe.

"You got me out alive," McCree says. His fingers curl in the blanket draped over his chest. "I thought that'd cost me an arm _and_ a leg."

Gabe snorts in spite of himself. McCree gives him a lopsided smile.

"Are you alright?" McCree asks. Gabe shakes his head and then shrugs.

"I've got the serum on my side. I'm fine."

"You still think that crap isn't worth it?"

"It might be," Gabe says with another shrug. McCree's gaze drifts back down to his left arm. "Don't - you don't need to worry about anything except resting."

"Do I need to file for workers' comp?" McCree asks. He trips over the next few words. "Or unemployment?"

"No - no," Gabe says quickly, almost too sharply. "No, you're my best agent. I'm not letting you go that easy."

A slightly relieved look washes over McCree's face. There's something else there that Gabe can't put a finger on. He gives Gabe another small, lopsided smile.

"Damn," McCree says, almost softly. Gabe finds himself looking at McCree's mouth, his chapped lips still raw from exposure.

Gabe stands up abruptly. "I'll let you get some rest," he finds himself saying. "Once you're stable, we'll get us transferred back to Switzerland."

Gabe avoids looking too closely at McCree's expression - does it fall? Does he look disappointed?

"Sounds like a plan, boss," McCree says. Gabe swallows around the lump in his throat and sees himself out of McCree's hospital room.

Gabe doesn't intend to, but he ends up avoiding McCree's room for the rest of their stay in Canada. His mind keeps drifting back to the memory of McCree's rough mouth on his own. Gabe has to remind himself that McCree is in a delicate, vulnerable state.

Besides, Gabe has no idea how that particular urge came about and he's not about to try to pluck it apart now. He seals up his feelings as he's wont to do, tucking it away tightly in the back of his brain. He tells himself he'll get to it later, knowing full well that later will never come.

That's just the way it has to be.

When McCree's stable enough for a long flight, Gabe makes the arrangements to transport them from the Yukon base to Switzerland. Gabe hasn't seen McCree since he woke up, so he's surprised when McCree walks into the hangar looking almost normal. His uniform sleeve is pinned up, but the color has returned to his face, even though the tip of his nose is still a little discolored. When he spots Gabe, McCree breaks out into a smile. Gabe forgets to breathe for a moment.

"Hey boss," McCree says when he's within earshot. He claps Gabe on the shoulder. "Where have you been hiding?"

"Not hiding," Gabe says, a little more forceful than he means. He gives McCree a long-suffering smile to soften his tone. "Just busy, you know how it is. We have to get back to Switzerland."

"You sure we can't head somewhere warmer? I'd even risk seeing Reinhardt in what he calls a swimsuit if we could head to Gibraltar," McCree says.

"Maybe after we check in and finish the paperwork," Gabe says. He realizes he sounds almost apologetic as the words come out.

"You mean I was out for three days and I still have paperwork to do?"

"An avalanche will do that, I guess," Gabe says. McCree waves his remaining hand and gives Gabe a little smile.

"You did everything you could, boss," McCree says, his tone going more serious in spite of his smile. He holds Gabe's gaze and it makes the lump in Gabe's throat swell again.

"I'm sure Morrison and Dr. Ziegler will have a thing or two to say about that once we get back to the base," Gabe manages to say.

"I bet you they won't," McCree says.

"I'm not so sure about that."

"You know better than to bet against me," McCree says. His eyes are bright when he says it and Gabe huffs out a little laugh.

"When you put it that way…"

McCree grins. "Let's get going."

Gabe lets McCree walk ahead of him into the shuttle. He watches the way McCree moves - he's favoring his right side, he's still probably a little tender, and his left shoulder swings with each step, unbalancing him slightly. But McCree's personality doesn't seem dampened at all; he greets the pilots with his usual good nature before he plops down into a seat towards the back of the shuttle, putting his feet up to settle in for the flight.

Gabe is the last one in the shuttle. He checks in with the pilots himself, confirming flight time and making sure that the team in Switzerland knows they're coming. He wanders to the back of the shuttle as the pilots take off, casually taking the seat next to McCree.

"All set, boss?"

"I would've gotten us back days ago, if it were up to me."

"Sorry for holding you up, then."

"What? Oh - no," Gabe shakes his head quickly. "It's important that you were well enough to make the trip."

"I'll be honest, I felt a lot better once they took my arm off," McCree says. Gabe looks at him sideways, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?"

McCree gives Gabe a rueful little smile - the first evidence that maybe all is not alright with McCree after all. Gabe's chest aches with guilt all over again.

"Well I was mostly unconscious," McCree says. "I felt a lot better when I woke up, though."

Gabe doesn't know what to say. He touches McCree's knee briefly before he thinks better of it and pulls his hand away. McCree looks at Gabe, an odd look in his eye, but he doesn't say anything. Something passes between them - an understanding, maybe - and they settle into a comfortable silence as the shuttle levels out. Gabe takes out his tablet in an attempt to get a head start on the reports waiting for him when they land.

Next to him, McCree nods off, his arm folded across his chest in an approximation of the way he used to cross his arms. Gabe keeps an eye on him, glancing sideways occasionally to make sure he's okay. McCree tilts to the side as he falls into a deeper sleep. Gabe lets him fall against his shoulder. A surge of protectiveness wells up in Gabe's chest. He wraps an arm around him to keep him in place, reasoning that it might help in the face of turbulence. He keeps his eyes on his tablet but he's having a harder time concentrating on the contents of his reports. McCree's bulk against Gabe's side is reassuring, familiar. Gabe doesn't have the heart to move him.

Gabe ends up drifting off to sleep too - his cheek falls against the top of McCree's head where it rests on his shoulder and his eyes close, the hum of the shuttle lulling him to sleep.

He wakes once, as McCree seems to wake up and shift in his seat. Gabe starts to lift his arm but McCree burrows into Gabe's side, the fingers of his good arm curling in the front of Gabe's shirt. Gabe falls asleep again.

The shuttle lands at the Swiss base early in the evening. Gabe wakes up when the shuttle begins to make its descent but doesn't have the heart to wake McCree. McCree lifts his head as the engines cut out after they've touched down. He turns his head to look up at Gabe.

"Are we here?" he asks. Gabe nods, still making no move to get up.

"Get some sleep?"

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Gabe says. "You needed it."

McCree straightens finally and Gabe immediately misses the reassurance of his weight leaning up against him.

"Come on, Dr. Ziegler's going to want to give you a once over," Gabe says. He stands up and rolls his head a little, a crick in his neck.

"Can't it wait until morning?"

"Better to get it over with," Gabe says.

Sure enough, when they step out of the shuttle, Angela and Jack are waiting for them. Gabe gives them a little wave but Angela is already hurrying forward to meet them.

"Jesse," she says, looking obviously relieved.

"What, no gurney?"

"Are you feeling faint? I can get one -"

"I'm alright, Angie," McCree says gently.

"I'll be the judge of that," Angela says. "Come, I'll make it quick."

"Much appreciated," McCree says. He glances over his shoulder back at Gabe as Angela leads him away. Gabe gives him a little wave. He meant to go with him for Angela's exam - but, to do what? Hover? McCree doesn't need his commanding officer's watchful eyes on his medical records too. Besides, Angela is the best. She'll take care of him.

Instead, Gabe turns to give Jack a tired nod. Jack claps him on the shoulder and they walk out of the shuttle bay in silence until they get to the main building.

"That was a close one, Gabe," Jack says finally. Gabe lets his breath out.

"Yeah," Gabe says.

"Maybe we should think about pulling you out of front line operations," Jack says.

"You know how I feel about that."

"You're too valuable a resource to risk putting you in direct danger."

Gabe lets out a hollow little laugh. "Jack, you know as well as I do that my _value_ is out in the field. Unless you want to try putting me in front of diplomats again."

Jack doesn't say anything - he knows Gabe's right, but he never likes admitting it.

"How's McCree holding up?" Jack asks eventually.

"Fine. Better than I thought he might. He's tough as nails," Gabe says. He can't help the admiration that comes into his voice as he says it.

"What's your plan for him?"

"Meaning?" Gabe asks, looking at Jack sideways.

"He could have his pick of assignments, if you'd like."

"You want to try putting McCree in front of diplomats now?" Gabe asks.

"He can still run operations," Jack says. "It might be more comfortable -"

"Why don't we let McCree decide for himself?" Gabe says. Jack lets his breath out.

"Whatever Angela thinks is best," Jack says. "I thought maybe deskwork would be preferable, given…"

"Are you going to put Shimada on desk duty too?" Gabe asks, failing to keep the hardness out of his voice. Jack gives Gabe an exasperated look.

"Alright, alright. I get it."

"McCree gets to decide what he wants," Gabe says. "And I don't think he's going to be picking desk duty. Why don't you let me run my team?"

"I am," Jack insists. "You've got a lot on your plate."

"You've noticed," Gabe says dryly.

"We _all_ do," Jack shoots back. "I'm trying to help you out here."

"I appreciate it," Gabe says. "Just let me do this my way."

"You're still part of Overwatch, Gabe," Jack says as they come to the door of Gabe's quarters. "You have resources."

"Our budget says otherwise."

"You know what I mean," Jack says. Gabe sighs.

"I'll let you know what he decides," Gabe says.

"I'm glad you made it back," Jack says, his face going serious. "But really - think about pulling back from frontline ops. We need you on our side."

"Good night, Jack," Gabe says.

"Night."

Gabe scans his palm and keys the code to let himself into his room. It's exactly how he left it - his sparse possessions a bit cluttered, but still neater than most. He flips on the lights and goes to sink down on his small sofa, the exhaustion creeping in. He should eat something, he should sleep - take advantage of the lull before the inevitable cascade of reports that await him in the morning. Instead, though, Gabe turns Jack's words over in his head, worrying about Angela's assessment of McCree. He brings up the report from the Yukon base medical team on McCree's condition.

> **RE: McCree, Jesse**
> 
> **Patient is recovering well following amputation of frostbitten limb (standard AE, left). Additional frostbitten areas responsive to treatment, no additional debridement deemed necessary. Additional exposure to biotics may be helpful to continued recovery. Patient is awake and alert, and in good spirits.**
> 
> **Recommend leave until follow up with primary care. Recommend psychiatric follow up. Primary care to sign off on return to duties following physical assessment and psychiatric evaluation.**

Gabe again resists the urge to go down to medical and hover over Angela's shoulder. She'll make the recommendation she thinks is best - Gabe trusts her. She's done wonders for Shimada, and McCree has approximately 70% more remaining body than Shimada.

He shouldn't be worried and yet he is; there's always the possibility that McCree decides to hang up his hat, so to speak. Gabe wouldn't begrudge him that choice, but he'd feel the loss.

He already thought he lost McCree once…

Gabe gets up and heads to the officer's lounge to grab something to eat, mostly as a means of keeping his mind occupied. He brings what he can scrounge back to his room and ensconces himself on the sofa again. It occurs to him he doesn't really know what to do with dead time. He flips on the TV, finds some inane show called _Dog Cops_ , and settles in, only half-paying attention to either the food or the show.

He falls asleep on the sofa.

Gabe wakes with a start some time later, disoriented. He fumbles for his tablet, which is wedged between two of the sofa cushions. The clock reads 11:37AM and he has dozens of unread messages. Gabe can't remember the last time he's slept this late. It's odd that nobody tried to wake him.

He scrambles up, scrolling through the messages as he walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower. He sets his tablet in the wall port so that he can project the screen on the shower wall and keep working as he bathes. It's a bad habit he's picked up lately, but the flow of reports never ceases and Gabe needs all the time he can get. Gabe scrolls through the unread messages, looking specifically for a message from Angela. Sure enough, he finds it - the message reads as delivered promptly at 9AM.

> **RE: McCree Status Report & Recommendation**
> 
> **The amputation is neat and healing well; nerve damage is minimal, though McCree reports some phantom pain. Regular biotic therapy should be beneficial in the long run. The other frostbitten areas are also healing well. McCree should make a full recovery in short order.**
> 
> **McCree will need physical therapy to compensate for the loss of a limb and to familiarize himself with a prosthetic. The medical team has already begun work on schematics for the prosthetic. A prototype should be available in about a month. McCree requested a "racing stripe" but we will defer to Blackwatch's preferences on uniform standards.**
> 
> **While McCree is apparently in good spirits in spite of the loss of his arm, we've recommended additional follow up with his existing psychiatric team out of an overabundance of caution. We do not have any concerns about McCree's mental health at this time.**
> 
> **We recommend that McCree take advantage of medical leave for up to one week, though he is permitted to return to light duties as soon as he is willing. Additional physical and psychiatric evaluations are required for sign off prior to McCree's return to field work, but we anticipate no objections as a result of his health concerns.**
> 
> **Please reach out to Dr. Ziegler directly with any questions.**

Gabe lets the water beat down on his head as he reads through Angela's evaluation a second time. It's all good news - Gabe should be relieved. There's no reason for that knot to linger in his chest. And yet…

Gabe gets out of the shower, dries off, and puts on a fresh uniform. He grabs himself lunch, which he brings back to his office, and starts catching up on his reports. The rhythm is familiar, easy to get lost in. He files reports, schedules a handful of meetings, rebalances the team's munitions budget to set aside more money for emergency first aid kits, and before he knows it, he's worked through dinner. It was an extremely productive day, but Gabe knows there's always more to do. After a light dinner, Gabe decides to head down to the gym to work out some of the pent-up energy that's buzzing under his skin.

The gym tends to be quiet in the evenings; the day's training sessions are over and most people are still digesting dinner. Gabe prefers having the space to himself, uninterrupted. The locker room is empty when he changes into workout clothes, for which Gabe is thankful. He goes to claim his favorite treadmill in the corner to warm up. With his headphones in, Gabe can zone out, letting the rhythmic thud of his feet on the machine drown out his thoughts and clear his mind.

The routine is good. It feels normal. After everything that's happened over the last week or so, Gabe needed the dose of normalcy. His body is still a little sore from the drama of the mission, but it feels good to stretch his muscles. Gabe takes his time, going for stamina over strength. At the end of his workout, he's tired but pleasantly so; his mind is clear. He feels unburdened.

The locker room is still empty when Gabe goes back to shower and change. He's just pulling on his pants again when the door to the locker room swings open. Gabe looks up as McCree comes in. McCree pauses when he spots Gabe, obviously surprised to see anyone in the locker room at this time of night. Gabe straightens.

"How are you feeling, McCree?" Gabe asks. McCree shrugs, giving Gabe a small smile. He has his gym bag in his right hand and his left sleeve is pinned up and out of the way.

"Not too bad, all things considered."

"I saw Dr. Ziegler's report," Gabe says. It must be the wrong thing - McCree's expression falls. Gabe quickly adds, "She said you'll make a full recovery. Something about a racing stripe?"

The smile returns to McCree's face, along with something that reads like relief.

"Yeah. Thought it might look kinda cool."

"Just so long as it's black or red."

"Damn, I was thinking purple."

Gabe cracks a smile and ducks his head. McCree comes down the aisle to drop his bag on the floor. Gabe picks his shirt up off the bench, twisting it in his hands.

"What were you thinking about taking time off?" he asks. McCree pauses.

"Ah," McCree says. He shrugs. "Dunno, really. I feel alright. A little lopsided, maybe, but… I wouldn't mind staying busy."

"Whatever you feel up to," Gabe says earnestly. "If you want to take some time off, that's alright. Don't feel pressured to come back."

"You sure I don't have to start looking for a new job?" McCree asks. He's standing on the other side of the bench, eyes on Gabe's face. Gabe holds his gaze.

"Absolutely," Gabe says firmly. "You always have a place here, McCree. That's not going away."

"Glad to hear it," McCree says, and it sounds genuine, a little soft. Gabe gives him a small smile.

"Take it easy in there," Gabe says, nodding towards the gym. "Don't push it just because you feel fine."

"Don't worry, boss. Angie'd have my hide," McCree says.

"I'd have to take her side, you know."

"Roger that, boss."

Gabe finally pulls his shirt over his head, running his hand through his still-damp hair once he tugs his shirt down. As he bends to gather up the rest of his things, McCree speaks again.

"Hey, uh, before you go - can I ask you a favor?"

Gabe looks up and sees McCree looking sheepish, almost embarrassed.

"Sure."

"Can you help me tie my shoes?" McCree asks, color rising to his cheeks. Gabe blinks then comes around the side of the bench quickly.

"Of course - it's no trouble," Gabe says, kneeling in front of McCree. McCree tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, his face still red, to avoid looking at Gabe.

"I think I'm gonna be wearing cowboy boots for a while," McCree says.

"You could try flip flops," Gabe suggests. McCree snorts. He drops his chin to his chest to look back down at Gabe. Gabe raises his own eyes to meet McCree's without getting up. McCree's expression is embarrassed, a little vulnerable. The color has returned to the tip of his nose, but his lips are still chapped.

"Thanks," McCree says quietly.

"It's no problem," Gabe says, the words suddenly coming out thick. He closes the distance between them and kisses McCree right on the mouth. McCree doesn't pull away. His hand comes up and grips Gabe's shoulder, his fingers strong and warm even though the cotton of Gabe's t-shirt. Gabe pulls away when he remembers he needs to breathe.

"Sorry," Gabe says breathlessly, and all but runs from the locker room.

Gabe, the coward that he is, avoids McCree for the next few days. He gets a notice on his tablet that McCree does end up putting in for medical leave - a paltry four days - and Gabe can't help but feel more than a little responsible for perhaps pushing McCree into taking leave. Maybe McCree wanted to put some distance between them, anyway. Gabe wouldn't blame him.

Regardless, Gabe will respect the distance. He instructs the team not to bother McCree while he's on leave, and he makes sure he doesn't send McCree any assignments as well.

It's only four days, but it goes by agonizingly slowly. Gabe does his best to keep himself busy so that his mind doesn't wander off. The few quiet moments Gabe allows himself are spent beating himself up and worrying that McCree will choose to leave Blackwatch when all is said and done.

Gabe wonders how he managed to make this whole ordeal go from bad to worse.

Late at night, Gabe is still working at his desk, trying to put the finishing touches on a report for the UN. He's lost track of time, which is preferable these days, and he wants to get this report back to Jack before Jack starts asking for it.

There's a knock on his door and Gabe barely looks up.

"Come in."

The door slides open.

"Hey boss," McCree's voice floats over to Gabe as the door shuts behind him. Gabe's head snaps up, the carefully suppressed lump in his throat returning in full force. He puts his stylus down carefully.

"Hey," Gabe says. "How's your leave been?"

"Uneventful. Ready to come back. If you'll have me," McCree says. Gabe sits back in his seat.

"Of course," Gabe says. "I've said it before - you're my best agent."

"You've been avoiding me," McCree points out. He's standing in front of Gabe's desk, looking down at Gabe, his expression unreadable. Gabe clears his throat a little.

"I didn't want to spoil your leave," Gabe says, even though it sounds like a weak excuse when he says it out loud. McCree looks at him for a long moment.

"Alright. I'll talk to Angie about returning to duty tomorrow," McCree says. He turns to leave, and he gets halfway to the door before Gabe stands up abruptly.

"Wait -"

McCree pauses, then turns his head to look over his shoulder. Gabe comes around the side of the desk and closes the distance between them in two short strides. He stops, though, suddenly uncertain, as McCree turns all the way around to face him.

"Yeah?" McCree asks.

"Ah," Gabe says eloquently. McCree is standing very close. Gabe clears his throat again. "I'm glad that you're okay."

"Are you going to kiss me again?"

Gabe nearly chokes.

"Do you want me to?" he manages to ask.

"I was hoping you would."

Gabe tips forward, crushing his mouth to McCree's without letting himself overthink it. He feels McCree stagger back, unbalanced, but Gabe steadies him with both hands on McCree's hips. McCree makes a small noise against Gabe's mouth and then his arm comes up to wrap around Gabe's shoulders.

"God," McCree murmurs against Gabe's mouth. "Thought I was hallucinating or something."

"Sorry," Gabe says, starting to pull away. "I just -"

McCree grabs him back, fingers digging into Gabe's shoulder. "Don't apologize."

Still, Gabe pulls away enough to look McCree in the eye.

"I thought we lost you," Gabe says. "And then… I was afraid - I thought you might walk away from this. From me."

"Gabe," McCree says, shaking his head. Gabe's heart thuds in his throat. "I couldn't do that."

"But -"

McCree leans forward and silences Gabe's protest with a kiss and, finally, Gabe lets himself feel everything: all of the fear, the desperation, the pain that he tried to hide, forbade himself from feeling. He lets himself enjoy the feeling of McCree's mouth - rough and insistent but warm and firm at the same time - on his own, the tight grip of McCree's hand fisted in the front of his shirt, the firm muscle under McCree's. It's everything Gabe wanted but never let himself have. The fear of losing McCree for good had put those feelings in sharp focus, for as much as he wanted to deny it.

And now - with McCree kissing him back - Gabe can't remember why he denied himself in the first place.

They part for a moment, both of them breathing hard, neither of them willing to let go of the other.

"I really thought I lost you," Gabe says roughly. McCree's fingers twist in the front of Gabe's shirt.

"I'm right here," McCree says. "I'm not going anywhere."

Gabe swallows down the emotion that rises in his throat - he's still not quite sure what to do with it.

"Actually," Gabe says. "We probably shouldn't stay here."

McCree glances around Gabe's office briefly then looks back at Gabe. He nods.

"Where to?"

"Would you… would you want to come to my quarters?" Gabe asks, feeling heat rise in his own cheeks. He's terrible at this. He's sure McCree is going to change his mind, he'd never want Gabe -

"I thought you'd never ask," McCree says with something that sounds like a laugh. Gabe blinks at him.

"Really?"

"Gabe," McCree says. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"What -"

"You're hot," McCree says, and his expression is completely serious in a way that even Gabe has trouble explaining away. "And before you joke that it's the SEP crap that makes you run hot, I don't mean _temperature_ , I mean you're a goddamn statue and I've been wanting to kiss you for ages. I thought - when you were keeping me warm up on that stupid mountain, I thought it wasn't so bad because I got to be close to you. That at least I'd die knowing what it felt like to be held by you. I was pretty sure I was a goner, Gabe, but you kept me alive long enough for me to come out the other side."

Gabe doesn't speak for a moment, bewildered, the words lost on his tongue.

"But - your arm -"

"Small price to pay if it got me right here, kissing you," McCree says.

"That's not -" Gabe shakes his head. McCree touches Gabe's cheek with his one remaining hand, gently turning his face to look him in the eye.

"Does it bother you? Me not… not being whole?" McCree asks. Gabe swallows hard and shakes his head again.

"No, of course not. It just... feels like my fault."

"You didn't cause a snowstorm. You didn't cause the avalanche. You didn't make the comms go out."

"I dropped you."

"You did what you could."

"Jesse -" Gabe blurts out, the emotion too much to hold in. McCree gathers Gabe close to his chest and Gabe tucks his face into the crook of McCree's neck. They stay like that for several long moments, not speaking. Finally, Gabe is the one to pull away. He drags a shaky hand down over his face.

"It's not your fault. I don't blame you, so you shouldn't blame you either," McCree says. He presses a sweet, chaste kiss to Gabe's lips. "I got a good therapist if you need a recommendation."

Gabe snorts, some of the tension in his chest unraveling. He shakes his head as if to clear it.

"I think we see the same person."

"Well then you ought to listen to Dr. Kwon," McCree says with a wry smile. Gabe lets out a little laugh.

"Maybe I should, yeah," Gabe admits. McCree smiles wider.

"There. See? Ain't so hard," McCree says. "Now, I'd really like to get back to kissing you, if that's still on the table."

"I - yeah, yeah it is," Gabe says, going almost shy. "Are my quarters still alright?"

"Just lead the way, Gabe."

Gabe walks shoulder to shoulder with Jesse from the offices to the dormitories. He keeps sneaking glances at him sideways, his brain still trying to catch up and process this sequence of events. Every time Jesse catches Gabe looking at him, he grins and nudges Gabe with his shoulder.

Gabe wonders how he managed to get this lucky.

At the door to his quarters, Gabe scans his palm and lets Jesse step in ahead of him. He's suddenly self-conscious of his private space - Gabe can't remember the last time he had a guest over. He opens his mouth to say something to Jesse, to apologize, maybe, but then Jesse is stepping in close and kissing Gabe hard enough to steal his breath away. Gabe closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Jesse, needing to feel the solid weight of his body against his own to convince himself that this is all really happening.

Somehow, Gabe manages to maneuver them to the sofa. They fall in a tangle of limbs, both of them unwilling to let go or stop kissing long enough to find a more comfortable position. Jesse is practically crawling into Gabe's lap, his mouth hot and damp against Gabe's. Jesse is so un-self-conscious in the way that he kisses Gabe, unabashed and needy. Gabe loves it. He'll give Jesse everything he wants and more.

Jesse ends up pushing Gabe down to the sofa cushions. They eventually settle on their sides, with Jesse wedged up against the back cushions and Gabe nearly dangling over the edge. It's ridiculous - they're both big men, and the sofa is not big by any stretch of the word, but Jesse is pressed up so close to Gabe that it mostly works. He feels solid against Gabe, and Gabe has the fleeting memory of Jesse huddled up against his side in the safe house after the avalanche. But they're warm now - so warm. Jesse's hand is sliding up under Gabe's shirt, his blunt nails scraping gently through the hair on Gabe's chest as his mouth moves over Gabe's jaw. Gabe lets his eyes slide closed, tilting his head back to give Jesse better access. His hand rests on Jesse's hip, the other pinned under his neck. He can't quite bring himself to be as bold as Jesse is, but then Jesse's always been the one to dive in head first. He's happy to let Jesse take the lead, anyway.

Jesse is panting in Gabe's ear, his hand pushing up Gabe's shirt, rucking up the fabric to expose Gabe's stomach.

"Take it off?" Jesse asks, his voice low in Gabe's ear. Gabe suppresses a shiver. He leans away to pull his shirt off over his head, dropping it on the floor next to the sofa. Jesse's eyes roam over Gabe's chest almost hungrily, his hand following the same path. "God, Gabe."

"What?"

"Just - just feeling lucky to be alive right now," Jesse says, dragging his eyes away from Gabe's chest.

Gabe tugs Jesse to him and kisses him hard, lips parting to taste him. He could do this forever, he thinks deliriously. Jesse shows no signs of wanting to stop. Gabe gets a hand into Jesse's hair, fingers tangling in the long strands. Jesse moans directly into Gabe's mouth. It sends a pleasant shudder down Gabe's spine. He tugs on Jesse's hair lightly and is rewarded with another moan. Jesse arches against Gabe. He pulls up the hem of his own shirt and it takes a moment before Gabe realizes what he's trying to do. He helps him strip it off. The feeling of Jesse's chest against his own is electric. His skin is hot against Gabe's and Gabe just wants to be close to him, share that heat in a way that's totally different from pure survival.

Gabe dares to drop a kiss along Jesse's jaw, nuzzling into his facial hair, enjoying the scratchiness against his cheek. Jesse huffs out what sounds like a little laugh. Gabe lifts his head to give him a questioning look.

"I wish I had more hands right now," Jesse says.

"What do you need?" Gabe asks. Jesse blinks at him for a moment, then he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"Hell of a question, Gabe."

Gabe kisses him again, putting his own neediness into the press of his mouth against Jesse's. His tongue sweeps between Jesse's lips, which open up for him with a little gasp that makes Gabe shiver.

"Whatever you want," Gabe says against his mouth. He drags his teeth over Jesse's bottom lip. Jesse's fingers clutch at Gabe's chest.

"That's dangerous territory, boss," Jesse says.

"I mean it," Gabe says, and he does. He'd give Jesse anything. He wants to keep him here, keep him close, keep him _safe_.

"What about what you want?"

"I asked first."

Jesse laughs. He kisses Gabe again, his hand trailing down Gabe's chest, pausing at the edge of Gabe's pants. His thumb flicks over the button of Gabe's fly.

"I want you, Gabe," Jesse says, moving his mouth over Gabe's jaw, down his neck, over his collarbone. Gabe lets his eyes flutter closed. His skin feels like it's on fire under Jesse's touch. Jesse's fingers dip just below Gabe's waistband. "That's all I ever wanted. Now I dunno where to even start."

Gabe swallows thickly. "Maybe I can help."

"Yeah?"

"Just - stop me if it's too much."

"Alright."

Gabe lets his baser instincts take over. He kisses Jesse deeply, letting his hands move down Jesse's chest until he finds the waistband of Jesse's pants. Deftly, he unbuttons and unzips Jesse's fly, pushing the fabric down just enough to palm the bulge already straining against Jesse's underwear. Jesse cants his hips into Gabe's hand.

"Can I?" Gabe asks.

"You better," Jesse replies, arching up even more into Gabe's touch. Gabe smiles against Jesse's mouth. He presses the heel of his palm against the bulge under the fabric, feeling the outline of Jesse's erection. Jesse squirms. He's practically panting against Gabe's mouth, his breath coming quick and hot between desperate kisses. Gabe keeps kissing him even as he moves his hand away from Jesse's dick. As Gabe moves his mouth away, Jesse makes a little noise of protest that's cut off as Gabe uses both hands to move him into a more accessible position; half on top of Gabe, who has propped his head up on the arm of the sofa, Jesse's back against Gabe's chest, with Gabe's thigh between Jesse's legs. Jesse turns his head to look at Gabe, though the angle isn't optimal for kissing. Gabe runs both hands down Jesse's chest. One hand slides all the way down under the waistband of Jesse's underwear.

When Gabe's hand finally wraps around Jesse's dick, both of them make appreciative noises. Jesse feels hot and thick in Gabe's grip. Gabe moves his hand slowly at first, experimentally, as if mapping out the way Jesse's dick feels, as if he's trying to memorize the sensation. Jesse's good hand clutches at the sofa, his chin tipped down to watch Gabe stroke him down.

"Okay?" Gabe asks, speaking directly into Jesse's ear. He feels Jesse shiver.

"Don't fucking stop now," Jesse says, breathless. Gabe uses his other hand to push Jesse's pants more out of the way, then flattens his hand against Jesse's muscular stomach as he begins jerking Jesse off in earnest.

Jesse lets his head fall back against Gabe's shoulder, his mouth open. Gabe has a fleeting hope that _that_ is the image that stays with him when he closes his eyes now. He mouths over Jesse's neck and shoulders, watching the tip of Jesse's dick peek through his fist as he strokes him down. A drop of precome beads on the tip and Gabe presses his thumb into the slit, smearing it around. Jesse's hips are rocking in time with Gabe's hand, which means his ass is grinding on Gabe's own erection. Gabe does his best to focus on Jesse's pleasure, but the way Jesse's ass presses back against his dick is intensely distracting. Jesse is moaning, too, loudly, from deep in his chest and right next to Gabe's ear. Gabe can feel the vibrations in his own chest.

Gabe jerks Jesse off faster, using one leg to give himself a little bit of leverage so he can grind his own dick against Jesse's ass. Jesse alternately thrusts erratically into Gabe's palm and pushes back against Gabe's groin, as if he doesn't know which sensation he likes better.

"Gabe," Jesse pants. His hips jerk up, thrusting impatiently into Gabe's palm. "Gabe, fuck, you're gonna make me -"

"Do it," Gabe says. He scrapes his teeth over whatever bit of flesh is closest to his mouth, twisting his wrist on the upstroke.

"Oh fuck -"

Gabe feels Jesse's dick twitch in his hand and then watches as Jesse comes in thick pulses over Gabe's fist. Gabe goes slightly breathless at the sight and strokes Jesse through it until he begins to go soft. He lets go, reluctantly, and drags his fingers through the mess spattering Jesse's stomach.

Jesse shifts a little, turning his head to press his mouth to Gabe's neck. Gabe can feel his breath, hot and ragged, ghosting over his collar bone. He's heavy and warm and Gabe doesn't want to let him go.

"Now that? That right there?" Jesse says. "You can take all the credit for that one. Happy to blame you."

Gabe blinks then laughs, his clean hand coming up to cover his face. Jesse shifts around again until he's on his side, wedged between Gabe and the back sofa cushions. He's smiling, his eyes are bright. A lock of hair sticks to his sweat-damp forehead.

"I guess I'll have to accept responsibility," Gabe says seriously. He feels lighter, somehow. Jesse kisses him.

"You're not gonna put up a fight?"

"Nah."

"Good," Jesse says and kisses him again. "'Cause I'd really like to do that again."

Gabe turns his head to look at Jesse, really look at him. A little bit of the nervousness returns to him, the uncertainty that Jesse is being serious. But the look in Jesse's eyes is unmistakable.

He seems to be able to read Gabe's mind too, because he kisses Gabe again, softer this time, sweetly.

"Really," Jesse says.

"Alright," Gabe says. "I believe you."

"You sure?"

"Jesse, I thought I lost you before. I'm not going to be letting you go so easy now," Gabe says, surprising himself. Jesse beams.

"Good," Jesse says again. His hand slides down Gabe's stomach to palm the front of his pants. Gabe's half-hard dick is suddenly paying attention again. "You wanna do something about this?"

Gabe feels the color creep into his cheeks. "You don't have to."

"I _want_ to," Jesse says. He sits up with a little difficulty. Gabe reaches out to help lever him up. Jesse gives him a smile. "Mind if I use your shower first? I'll be quick."

"Whatever you want," Gabe says. Jesse slides off the sofa, but not before he gives Gabe another kiss.

"You gotta be careful with that," Jesse says. "I might take advantage."

Gabe snorts and Jesse winks. He kicks off his pants and walks, very naked, into Gabe's tiny bathroom. Gabe can't help but stare at Jesse's firm backside as he walks away.

When the door closes and the shower turns on, Gabe falls back against the sofa cushions, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to process what's happening and how he got here. There's no question in his mind, now, that Gabe had been suppressing his feelings for Jesse for some time. It should've been obvious to him, but Gabe was so deeply in denial - and had so vehemently sworn off emotional entanglements - that he nearly missed his chance.

Thank god Jesse has a better head on his shoulders.

Gabe realizes he's smiling at the ceiling, a big, dumb, dopey smile. He's such an idiot. He flings an arm over his face but he doesn't stop smiling.

The worry and guilt has all but melted away, the relief rinsing his conscience clean. Gabe's _happy_ \- it's amazing how, with just a few words, Jesse managed to turn all of Gabe's fears on its head.

Gabe heard the water turn off and a moment later Jesse steps out of the bathroom in a rush of steam. He's pushed his damp hair back off his forehead and he's wrapped a towel low around his waist, holding it up with his hand. Gabe follows the path of a drop of water as it slides down Jesse's bare chest and gets lost in the hair that dusts his stomach.

"I was hoping you'd be naked when I came out," Jesse says, raising his eyebrows. Gabe sits up.

"That can be arranged," Gabe says. Jesse grins. He drops the towel.

"Come on then."

Gabe gets up off the sofa, trying not to appear too eager. He holds Jesse's gaze as he strips off his pants and underwear. He leaves them in a pile on the floor with his and Jesse's shirts and takes a couple of steps towards Jesse. Jesse pulls him in when Gabe's close enough. Gabe lets his hands settle on Jesse's hips.

"Better?" Gabe asks.

"Definitely," Jesse says. He leans back, looking down between them. "Much better."

Gabe laughs and reaches under Jesse's chin, tilting his head back up so he can kiss him. Jesse hums happily against Gabe's mouth before he pulls away.

"I want you to fuck me," he says. Gabe feels his mouth go dry.

"Are you… are you sure?"

"Hell, Gabe, I'm no blushing virgin," Jesse says.

"No, I know - I mean, I don't - but -"

"You're not gonna hurt me, if that's what you're worried about," Jesse says. He drops his gaze back down between them. His hand traces a light pattern over Gabe's chest. "You said it yourself. I almost died. I wanted this for a long time. I'm not going to let the opportunity slip by now."

Jesse looks up again, meeting Gabe's eyes. There's something vulnerable in that look and whatever reservations Gabe has left slip away.

"Me too," Gabe says softly. Jesse breathes out a relieved sounding little laugh.

"See? Why're we depriving ourselves?" Jesse says. He kisses Gabe, more firmly this time. "So are you gonna fuck me or what?"

They end up on Gabe's bed, Gabe hovering over Jesse, supporting himself with both hands while Jesse's fingers clutch at Gabe's hair at the back of his neck. Gabe settles between Jesse's legs as he drops kisses along Jesse's collar bone. Jesse keeps making pleased noises in the back of his throat, and something about the sound goes right to Gabe's dick. Gabe reaches for the bottle of lube he dug out of a drawer. He trails slicked fingers over the swell of Jesse's balls, then back to skate over his hole. Jesse makes another pleased noise, spreading his legs wider to give Gabe better access.

"C'mon Gabe, you won't hurt me," Jesse says.

"I know," Gabe says, pressing a finger slowly into Jesse. Jesse's mouth drops open, his hips shifting restlessly to take Gabe's finger in deeper. "I got you."

"Gabe," Jesse says, a little bit of a whine coming into his voice. Gabe presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and steadily works Jesse open, taking his time even though Jesse keeps moving impatiently under him. He kisses down Jesse's neck. Gabe rubs his cheek against Jesse's chest, enjoying the way that Jesse's chest hair feels against his cheek. "Gabe -"

Gabe scrapes his teeth over one of Jesse's nipples and is rewarded with a moan. He feels Jesse clench around his fingers, so he does it again. Jesse is panting now, his hand clutching at the sheets bunched up by his side.

"Still okay?"

Jesse makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a frustrated grunt and a breathless laugh. He grabs at Gabe and drags him up to kiss him, even though it becomes more of an open-mouthed press of the lips.

"C'mon, Gabe," Jesse says again. "We've been waiting for this."

Gabe pulls his fingers free. He drizzles lube over his dick before he leans over Jesse again, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of Jesse's shoulders. Jesse smiles up at him, his damp hair splayed out on Gabe's pillow, his eyes shiny and bright. He reaches down and takes Gabe's dick in his hand. Gabe pitches forward at the sensation. Jesse guides him between his legs and, finally, Gabe thrusts into Jesse.

Both of them moan as Gabe's hips press flush to Jesse's ass. Jesse is tight and hot around Gabe's dick, and it's been so long since Gabe let himself have anything like this - anything emotional, anything meaningful. It's overwhelming. They both survived the ordeal on the mountain, and they've managed to find their way into each other's arms. Jesse seems to be having a similar train of thought. He loops his arm around Gabe's shoulders and pulls him down so he can kiss him. Gabe kisses him back deeply, holding Jesse's face in both hands and squeezing his eyes shut, savoring it. When he pulls away to draw breath, Jesse moves his hand down Gabe's back.

"Fuck me," Jesse says and Gabe can't do anything but oblige.

Gabe discards his hesitation. He takes Jesse's hips in both hands and picks up a steady pace, thrusting into Jesse with long, deep strokes, making Jesse feel every inch of him. Jesse arches up off the bed and moves his hips to meet Gabe thrust for thrust. His dick is hard and leaking against his hip, his hand clutching at Gabe's, his fingers digging into the meat of Gabe's ass to pull him in even closer.

Jesse isn't quiet and it amazes Gabe how much he loves the sound of Jesse's voice crying out, repeating his name again and again, the way he goes breathless as Gabe's dick skates over Jesse's prostate. He keeps saying things - _praising_ Gabe - that egg him on. Gabe chases his own pleasure, hunched over Jesse's torso and watching Jesse's flushed face, the way Jesse's lips move as he moans Gabe's name.

Gabe comes with long moan. He holds himself up on shaking hands, his hips still pressed flush to Jesse's ass, until Jesse reaches up and tugs him down. Gabe lets himself flatten out against Jesse's chest as he tries to catch his breath. He moves only to drop a kiss to Jesse's sweaty skin.

After a few long moments, Gabe tries to get up, but Jesse pulls him back down.

"Stay here," Jesse says, his voice a little rough. "Stay right here."

"I don't want to crush you -"

"You're not crushing me, Gabe," Jesse says. Gabe relents, letting Jesse hold him to his chest. He can hear Jesse's heart beating under his ear. He closes his eyes, listening to the steady sound.

"This isn't the way I would've chosen," Gabe finds himself saying. He feels Jesse go tense under his cheek. He lifts his head to look Jesse in the eye. "I mean, I would've preferred avoiding the near-death experience."

Jesse relaxes and lets out a small chuckle.

"Me too," he says. Gabe leans up to kiss him.

"I'm glad you're safe," Gabe says. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too, Gabe," Jesse says. "Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the thrilling conclusion!! 
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic), [tumblr](http://wictorwictor.tumblr.com/) (for now), and [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/mcreyes)! Come say hi (or yell at me) ♥

**Author's Note:**

> (chapter 2 coming soon, i promise)


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